


No Pride

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme asked for anything Daryl/Governor non con. </p><p>This work contains heavy violence and rape, please do not read if these issues are upsetting to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pride

Daryl had gone after the Governor himself, fleeing from Merle’s body and making a beeline for Woodbury. A part of him knew it was suicide, but a much bigger part of him really didn’t give a shit anymore. Vengeance was flowing through his veins, keeping him breathing heavily with a determined pace and angry tear tracks drying on his face. Time doesn’t ease the pain and when he reaches the borders of Woodbury he’s still just as riled up and ready for a fight as he was before.

It had gone badly almost immediately.

He prides himself on his stealth but the fact was this was a place he didn’t know, where he had no advantage and it wasn’t long before he was caught again, gagged, bound and locked in the same fucking room he’d been in before. It burns inside of him, the shame and anger, the thoughts of Merle mocking him for being so fucking stupid and then the realisation that he was never going to hear that again. Daryl isn’t careful when he tries to break his bonds, not caring about his own pain as he yanks at the wire, trying to shake the bag off of his head and just get free and do what needed to be done. He’s not quiet about it either, let them hear, let them know how he felt about this entire fucked up situation.

He freezes when the door opens, listening intently for any clues on who it was and what they wanted. The bag getting yanked off his head is surprising but before he can wonder why he’s face to face with the focus of all his hatred. Daryl lunges, hands still bound behind him but wanting to hurt however he can, willing to bite or headbutt to cause the pain he wants to.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you son of a bitch. You did that to him, you fucking murderer!” He yells and honestly he’s not quite sure what he says, it’s all just anger and hatred, mixed yells and aggression until his throat is burning. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking make you pay you son of a fucking bitch!” For what it’s worth the Governor does step back from him, avoiding the glob of spit he aims at him to try and show how much he hates the other man.

The Governor laughs. He actually has the audacity to laugh in his face and smile like the world was all fucking daisies. Daryl wonders if he could manage to hook out the other eye before he leaves, there’s something in his gaze that’s making him feel sick. “Now now Dixon, you don’t want to say something that will get you into trouble do you?”

Daryl growls, lunging again and hissing when the wire digs into his wrists further. When a hand tangles into his hair Daryl growls, wanting to hurt but wincing when he’s yanked about in a manner that’s very familiar. “Get the fuck off me!”

“No I don’t think I will. You know I was willing to give you all a chance, then Merle decides that he wants to be the hero.” He sighs, fucking sighs as if he’s upset, as if he’s lost a friend or some shit. Daryl wants to shut him up, how dare he say his brother’s name when he fucking killed him? “Now I know what must be done.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t gonna beg if that’s what you want. I ain’t gonna beg for nothing.”

“No I didn’t think you would.” Daryl doesn’t know why the bastard is chuckling when he says that, and he has a feeling he really doesn’t want to know. The Governor lets go of his hair and moves around the room, shifting into the shadows and making him feel uneasy. “You Dixon’s are all the same, did you always want to be like your brother?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“He used to talk all about you. Did you know that? Couldn’t get any information out of him about most of his past but you? Well you were his favourite subject.” The Governor’s voice is too nice, too soothing and kind as he moves closer, approaching Daryl from behind. He shudders when the Governor begins touching him, fingers soft, smooth against him and awfully fucking gentle as he tugs at his clothes.

Daryl squirms at that, he’d been expecting a beating, he knew how to take that, pain was easy to deal with. Whatever the fuck the Governor was thinking of doing, would not be easy to cope with. “Shut up.” Daryl’s voice is hoarse and he has to swallow when the words catch in his throat, trying to tug away from the grabbing hands.

The Governor continues as if he hadn’t interrupted, voice still smooth, a contrast to how his fingers suddenly begin ripping and tearing at Daryl’s clothes, forcing him down to the floor and smashing his face into the floor. The movement is so sudden and unexpected that Daryl doesn’t have time to brace himself, and he can feel his nose begin to bleed as he tries to fight being pinned.

“Used to tell us all how he was going to find you. How Dixons could survive anything and he was going to find you soon enough. Never left though, not once did he go looking.” Hands yank at his underwear and it shows how strong the Governor is when he manages to stop Daryl from bucking out from beneath him, laying his larger body on top. Daryl tries to squirm away, pressing himself against the floor, face covered in his own blood as he tense to try again. A quick jab to the side has him gasping for air and the Governor takes advantage again.

“We got to know all about you Daryl.” The asshole continues cooing to him, petting him, a stark contrast to the way he was also unbuckling his pants. The panic sets in fully then, Daryl bucking and wriggling, swearing and hissing, hoping that something would dislodge his attacker. “How you’d follow Merle around like a little duckling, wanting to be so like your big brother.”

Daryl coughs into a puddle of his own blood when a finger presses against his entrance, rough and harsh, digging and pressing until he’s jerking at the sudden pressure somewhere it shouldn’t be. “Fuck you! Get off me! Fucking- fucking faggot!” The words fall without thought, cursing and hoping that something, anything would stop this from happening.

“He’d sound so proud too when he spoke of you.” The finger continues pressing, pushing and poking before being roughly joined by another one. Daryl gags on air, feeling the need to vomit or just do something to show his disgust. It hurts so bad and he knows it’s not going to get any better but he can’t get out. He can’t escape this and he wasn’t even hurt enough to pass out and avoid it. The Governor was going to force him to go through it and make him listen to stories about Merle the whole while.

There’s no warning, even the subtle shift of the Governor’s body doesn’t give him enough time to brace himself and then there’s something bigger and more terrifying pressing at him. There’s no way he can scramble free, his hands are still tied behind him, his nose is throbbing and the Governor has him damn near splayed out on the floor beneath him. There’s no way he can buck him off, there’s no leverage, he can’t get his knees beneath him and the other man is too heavy.

He doesn’t know how to describe the noise he makes when he’s roughly entered, but he’ll be damned if it’s a sob.

“Told us all how he damn near raised you himself. Taught you everything you know and made sure you knew about the important things in life.” Daryl tries to ignore him, closing his eyes, pressing his cheek further into the blood and trying to bury himself, lose himself in the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. The words hurt, burn even more than the pain and he knows he’s grunting, gritting his teeth to try and remain quiet, but fuck just knowing that Merle wasn’t going to be there after this hurt even more.

The wire digs further into his skin, cutting, burning and leaving him grateful to have some new wound to think about. Until the Governor begins moving and then all he can focus on is the shame and humiliation of his position. It hurts, God it fucking hurts so much, he knows he’s bleeding, body broken in the most intimate of ways. He chokes, gagging again and despite his best efforts he knows he’s fucking trembling.

“Good old Merle taught you well didn’t he? Kept you in line your whole life, made sure you knew where your loyalties lie. Shame he didn’t take the lesson himself.” His voice is getting tighter and Daryl can only hope that it’s nearly over, that this is all going to be finished with soon and he’ll be able to open his eyes. “You could have both been very valuable assets but instead you hang on stupid things like blood and kin.”

His voice is mocking now, dark and deeper than before, he’s panting loud and hard, fingers gripping harder in Daryl’s hair, jerking him up and pounding his body harder. Just a few more moments. Not long now. It was almost over, just endure it. Daryl kept up the mantra, biting so hard on his lip he could feel blood trickling down his chin to join the puddle on the floor.

“He was so proud of his baby brother.” The Governor moves faster, thrusting, moaning and making lewd noises that surround Daryl, echo in his ears and make him want to hide away. He wishes he’d fought harder, that he’d stopped this and killed the bastard, that he could at least make him shut the hell up. When the Governor finally comes with a few hard thrusts he stays tense, hating that his nerves are so raw they feel every single shift of the other man as he pulls away.

The Governor stands, and Daryl remains where he’s left, breathing hard through his nose, blood rippling in response as he lays on the floor. He hears as the other man rearranges himself, the telltale sound of a zipper and that’s enough to make him flinch back in shame. It all comes crashing down on him, the reality of what just happened. The door opens again but Daryl doesn’t hear it shut, instead he hears the clatter of a knife being thrown beside him, and a chuckle. Warily he peers up to the Governor, wondering exactly what he could do next to make this worse.

“I wonder Merle would think of you now.” The bastard smiles again, giving a nod as if in thanks and Daryl feels queasy again, shuffling to try and grab the knife, wanting to plunge it into his fucking eye. “Clean yourself up and get the hell out of my town.”

Slumping over after the footsteps had faded away Daryl gives himself a few seconds to pick himself back up, to bottle up everything and deal with the current fucked up situation and certainly not dwell on the knowledge that Merle would be anything but proud of him right now.


End file.
